


The Talk

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Morning After, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the hiatus between 4a and 4b, Snow decides to have a talk with Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by j-philly-b. Just a little piece of fluff that came out of my desire to write dialogue.

Emma cracks an eye open, fumbling for her phone to stop its insistent buzzing. As she swipes it silent and starts to get up, a strong arm wraps around her, pulling her close.

“Stay,” Killian murmurs, his voice scratchy with sleep. The first light of dawn is coming in through the window of his room, and Emma briefly gives up her half-hearted attempt to leave his warm bed. 

“I have to go, I have work,” Emma says, but in contrast to her words, she snuggles back down into the floral sheets that Granny favors for her guest rooms, letting Killian continue to hold her. The sex is still a new thing between them, and waking up together is a luxury she’s rarely allowed. She has to admit, it’s pretty wonderful and startlingly intimate, feeling his naked body all along the length of her own first thing in the morning. He pushes his hips against her backside and she feels his erection, firm against her ass. Emma feels a flush of of feminine power for a second, but then figures she probably shouldn’t be too impressed with herself that he’s woken up hard; as she recalls, that’s pretty much par for the course with men. 

“Down, boy.”

His lips press against the back of her neck, making her shiver. “I can’t help it, my thirst for you is unslakable. Besides, it’s early yet, you can stay a while longer.” 

With a burst of willpower, Emma sits up. She must look a fright, her hair tangled and makeup gone, but Killian’s eyes are filled with desire and something that looks a little bit like love. “Yeah, but I need to go home and shower and change my clothes before I go to the station. And I’d rather not do the old walk of shame in front of Granny’s breakfast crowd.”

“Walk of shame?” He frowns.

Emma pats his shoulder reassuringly, sorry if she’s made him feel bad. “I don’t mean I’m ashamed, it’s just what people call it in this world when you have to walk home in your clothes from the night before, after …” She gestures between them. “This.”

“A night of earth-shattering sex?” he asks with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

She’d like to knock him down a few pegs, but it was pretty earth-shattering. “Yeah.”

He grabs her hand and pulls, and Emma ends up sprawled over his chest. “Sure I can’t interest you in one more for the road, as it were?”

It’s tempting. Really tempting. But if she leaves now, there’s a shot she can make it to the shower in the loft without her parents even realizing she was out all night. And she can’t believe she’s a 30-year-old woman worrying about what her parents will think about her sex life. She gives Killian a closed-mouth kiss on the lips, protecting him from her morning breath, and pulls away, finally getting all the way out of bed and standing up. “Another time. Soon. But I really have to go.”

Killian’s eyes rake over her naked body, and Emma can’t resist giving him a little bit of a show as she pulls her clothes on, shifting her hips side-to-side as she slowly pulls her underwear and then her jeans on, leaving her bra and sweater for last so that he can enjoy the bounce of her breasts. The expression on his face does not disappoint, but when he moves his hand under the covers, obviously touching himself while he watches her, Emma almost loses her resolve to leave. 

“What time are you headed to the Sheriff’s station?” Killian asks, and fuck him if his hand isn’t still moving under the blankets, his smile saying he knows exactly what that’s doing to her.

“Need to be there by eight,” she says, focusing on his face and pointedly not on his bare chest and definitely not on anything going on below his waist.

“I’ll meet you with a coffee and walk with you.”

Touched by his thoughtfulness, Emma leans over and kisses him again. “Okay.” She finishes dressing, gathering up her jacket and purse. She spies two condom wrappers on the floor, picks them up, and throws them in the waste basket. That will probably get her a knowing look from Ruby later, but whatever. They’re all adults.

“See you later, love.”

“Bye, Killian,” she whispers, pulling his door closed. He’s the only guest in the inn at the moment (it’s not like Storybrooke gets visitors), but she still feels the need to be as silent as she can be, given the hour.

She’s focused on keeping her footfalls on the stairs silent as she descends, so Granny’s “Morning, Sheriff Swan,” makes Emma jump and put a hand to her chest. She tries not to feel like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar and fails.

“Morning.”

“Still living in that loft with Snow and the Prince and your baby brother, are you?” Granny looks her up and down appraisingly.

“Um, yeah? For now.”

“You should probably find an apartment of your own; you’d get more sleep. I know _I’d_ get more sleep,” Granny says with a frown.

Emma winces, and can feel her cheeks reddening. They really weren’t that loud, but she knows Granny also literally has the hearing of a wolf. “Sorry.”

Granny waves her hand dismissively. “Eh, I’ll live. I don’t sleep that soundly regardless, and the pirate’s been surprisingly helpful around the place lately, so I’d be sorry to see him go.”

That piques Emma’s curiosity. “Helpful?”

“He’s fairly handy with repairs for someone with only one hand,” Granny says, but doesn’t elaborate.

After an awkward silence, Emma says, “Okay, well, I gotta…” She indicates the door.

“Be seeing you soon, I’m sure,” Granny says, bustling toward the entrance to the diner.

Emma walks back to the loft in the early morning light, lost in thought. She really should get her own place; she’s been thinking it for a while now, but something keeps stopping her. At first she thought it was just the need to be close to her parents after so many years without them, but that isn’t it, not really. Storybrooke is a small town, and she works with David, so it’s not like she’d really see them much less. The fact is, she’s scared. It’s a slippery slope from Killian staying over some nights to Killian staying over most nights to Killian just moving in with her, and it’s way too soon for that. The thought of it is terrifying (and also terrifyingly appealing).

Emma slips her key in the lock of the loft and pushes her way in, focused on the thought of a hot shower and clean clothes.

“Hi, Emma.” 

Startled for the second time, and it’s barely morning, Emma thinks as she spots her mother standing in the kitchen and bouncing Neal. “Hi, Mom. Neal up early this morning?”

“Yep. So are you,” Mary Margaret responds neutrally.

“Uh-huh. Well, this is weird, so I’m just gonna take a shower and get ready for work now.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

When Emma emerges from the bathroom some time later, hair gleaming and makeup on and ready for the day, Mary Margaret is eating toast and sipping tea while she reads the paper. Neal is in his baby swing, watching little animals spin over his head, tinny music tinkling along to the rhythm of the swing. If Emma never hears that song again as long as she lives, it will be too damn soon.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He went out for an early patrol around the town line,” Mary Margaret explains. She points to the other side of the kitchen island, where a cup of cocoa waits for Emma. 

“Thanks.” She sips the cocoa, and then goes to make some toast for herself. They are both silent, lost in their own thoughts, until the toaster pops.

“Could you pass me the strawberry jam?” Emma asks.

“Emma, I wasn’t there for you when you were a teenager,” Mary Margaret says in what seems to be a complete non sequitur.

“That’s... okay,” Emma responds slowly, squinting at her mother, and reaching for the jam herself.

“Clearly it’s not, because you got pregnant at seventeen and went to jail.”

“Yeah, that was a low point, although I don’t regret it because then I wouldn’t have Henry, and where is all this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Nowhere, just…” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m your mother, and I worry.”

“Is this about me being at Hook’s last night?” At Mary Margaret’s wince, Emma can’t help but groan. “I’m not seventeen anymore, not by a long shot.”

“Well, accidents can still happen.”

“Oh God. Mom. I really don’t need to you give me a sex talk now. I’m thirty.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have a mother.”

“I figured stuff out. I mean, I grew up here, in the world with the internet. I could probably give you a sex talk.” 

Mary Margaret looks insulted by that. “Just because I’m from the Enchanted Forest, that doesn’t mean I’m innocent, Emma.”

“Didn’t say that you were,” she says, her hands up to placate her mother. “Anyway, it’s all good, we’re being safe, now can we not talk about this ever again?”

“Are you sure?” Mary Margaret’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment, but she forges ahead. “Because using a condom correctly is a two-handed job, and—”

“Oh my God. _I_ have two hands, Mom.”

“Oh. Right. That makes sense.”

Emma opens the jam and starts to spread it on her toast. “Are we done, then?”

“Yes, all done. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into your personal life.”

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s fine. It’s nice that you’re concerned for me.” She takes a bite of her toast and chews. “Embarrassing, but nice.”

“I just want you to be happy, and … I want to make sure Hook is being kind to you.”

“Mom—”

“No, just listen. I can see he’s changed, and he’s done a lot of good. And he seems to care a great deal for you. But men can seem good, and can say all the right things, and can still be cruel to the woman they supposedly love. And Hook, with his attitude—”

“You mean that swagger? That's all talk.” Off Mary Margaret’s skeptical look, she adds, “I've come across a lot of shitty men in my life, believe me. I've known abusers, and guys who gaslight their girlfriends, and so-called ‘nice guys’ who think women owe them something. Killian is none of that. He's sweet and he makes me laugh, and it just feels… I don't know. It feels right, I guess. And I trust him.”

Mary Margaret smiles. “You love him.”

“Okay, let's not go overboard here, we haven't been together very long. I… like him a lot. And I want to keep seeing him.”

“Mm hmm,” Mary Margaret says, clearly unswayed by Emma’s protestations. 

“Stop it.” Emma can feel herself blushing as she gathers up her second piece of toast and her purse. “I'm going to work now.” Remembering that Killian is going to be waiting for her with a cup of coffee, her heart does a little flip. With a wave to her mother and an eyeroll at her knowing smile, Emma closes the door to the loft and heads out to face her day.


End file.
